Rebel with a cause

Fifty years ago, the Porsche 911 debuted at the 1963 Frankfurt Motor Show. Hormazd Sorabjee explains why it’s still such an icon

No other car has got its engineering fundamentals so wrong, and yet so right, as the Porsche 911, and flourished for half a century as a result of it. This is a car that has not only gone against engineering convention, it has also given Isaac Newton the proverbial middle finger by defying his laws of physics. And its distinctive design – with “frog eye” lights, upright A pillars and curved rear quarter glass – is nothing short of than iconic.

But what is it about the car that’s so against the rules? The answer lies in the 911’s mechanical layout, with its engine slung out behind the rear wheels. It’s not an unusual configuration for mainstream cars – the VW Beetle (which was the original inspiration for the 911’s layout) and even the Tata Nano use a rear-engine, rear-wheel-drive layout, because pushing the engine all the way to the back gives you a lot more space inside the cabin. But in a powerful sportscar, having the car’s weight skewed towards the rear can make its handling distinctly tail-happy – tricky for an amateur driver, while extremely rewarding for a skilled one.

That Porsche has steadfastly stuck to the original 911’s template, designed by Ferdinand “Butzi” Porsche, and shunned any temptation to move to a mid-engine (and better balanced) layout, like most other supercars, is remarkable. Recently, the storied marquee gathered all seven generations of the series for a 50th birthday celebration around its home in Stuttgart, Germany. I was there, too.

At the kick-off point, the first set of keys I reach out for is that of a red 964 Targa. The first time I ever drove a 911 was in 1990, when I had a bright purple 964 Carrera 2 Cabriolet – powered by a rearengined 3.6-litre, 247hp _ at-six motor – for a couple of days in the Black Forest. The first set of corners itself had made me acutely aware of the engine mass behind the rear wheels. Not that that had stopped me from hitting a then-personal speed record of 240kph on the Autobahn. With the hood down.

Twenty-three years later, the engine fires up, and the delicious rasp of the air-cooled _ at-six – missing in more recent 911s – encourages me to rev it hard. We’ve been told to be gentle with these cars, which have been loaned to us by the Porsche Museum, but I can’t help redlining it several times. The 964’s clutch feels quite heavy, and the gearshift has a bit of slack, but it still swaps cogs with a fine degree of precision. The suspension, though on the firm side, doesn’t feel particularly harsh. And while there’s a bit of scuttle shake over sharp edges, the overall tautness for such an old car is impressive, and a reflection of the fantastic build quality Porsches are known for.

At the first switchover point on the drive to Weissach, I jump two generations forward and into the snug seat of a 996. It matches my personal chronological order – the 996 is the second 911 I drove, in 2002, around the Nordschleife at the highly challenging Nürburgring circuit in Germany. What an experience that was. The 996’s handling was pretty neutral and not too edgy, so it was easy to build up speed and exploit the 320hp 3.6-litre engine to the fullest. Around the 147 corners of the Nordschleife, the brilliant steering shone through, as did the fantastic brakes.

The water-cooled flat-six in the 996 I’m driving this time may have lost its traditional aural character, but it still sounds great. I don’t drive it long enough to rediscover its dynamic prowess – but even in the short stint I have with the car, I can’t miss its top-notch build quality and a cabin that feels luxurious, even by today’s standards.

The car I’ve had my eye on all morning, though, is the 993. Many 911 fans consider this model to be the best of all seven generations [see box], and it’s ironic that it was conceived as a stopgap replacement for the 964 until Porsche (financially struggling at the time in the early Nineties) found the resources to develop a new groundsup model.

The 993 I finally get my hands on has a tip-tronic (it also comes with a manual gearbox option). But, slow-witted gearshift aside, I’m impressed by how agile the car (which weighs a mean 1,360kg) feels, and how effortlessly it throws up a driving experience that’s engaging without being tiring.

Fast forwarding to the 997, I find myself in familiar territory. This is the first “Indian” 911 – the generation with which Porsche debuted its flagship in our market. To me, this was also the first 911 whose performance was truly accessible – thanks largely to the Porsche Active Management System (PASM).

With the current-generation 991, Porsche has refined the 911 even further: The ride is incredibly compliant, the cabin feels better insulated, and the handling, though not as pin-sharp as before, feels better balanced. The electric steering does its job but has filtered out some feedback, and there is newfound maturity to the way the 991 drives. Is it as much fun as before? Not in a raw kind of way, but the ultraresponsive engine and the seven-speed PDK twin-clutch gearbox (the first on a 911) certainly make for a comfortable drive. Still, to truly understand what makes the 911 so special, you need to go back to the original 911. Stepping inside it takes you back in time. The large, thinrimmed steering wheel feels oldfashioned, the cabin is spartan, and there’s not an ounce of luxury. Yet you know you’re in a 911 by the way you sit (the pedal box is much smaller than in later cars) and the five large dials that stare at you.

There’s a mechanical purity about earlier-generation 911s that isn’t sullied by electronics and software. With the relatively skinny tyres the 911 originally came with, you can arrive at the limit quite quickly, especially when you are on the highly technical Weissach test track. But perhaps the 911 that really needs complete mastery behind the wheel is the second-generation 911, the legendary Carrera 2.7 RS, which came with a much more powerful engine but the same mechanical layout as the original. It’s got fatter tyres, so the limits of adhesion are much higher – but then, so is the speed at which you can lose it.

This thinly disguised track car is the only Porsche 911 I don’t get to drive – I can’t get anywhere near it because it’s hogged from the word “go”. Well, you’ve got to leave something for the bucket list, don’t you?